


Time-lapse

by Karee_the_wise



Series: Flagshot [2]
Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Angst, Corporal Punishment, Developing Relationship, Family Outings, Family time, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Hurt!Floyd, M/M, Missions, Post-Movie(s), Pre-Slash, Waller gives no fucks, Zoë Lawton ships it, cuteness, prison guards are dicks, so many feelings, squad goals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:13:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7904356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karee_the_wise/pseuds/Karee_the_wise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of their previous mission, Rick and Floyd, along with the rest of the squad, start to pick up the pieces of their lives and build something better.</p><p>(Takes place immediately after 'Capture the Flag'.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rick had chosen an especially fancy restaurant when organising Floyd’s trip to see his daughter; he wanted them both to have the best time, and apparently Zoë had a love for old paintings, which this restaurant had plenty of.

As the three of them traipsed through the streets of New York City towards the establishment, Rick could almost forget that they were being followed by a group of armed soldiers; it seemed so natural to him, being with the Lawtons, as they chatted idly amongst themselves, despite barely knowing the youngest.

“Hey Rick, is that the place?” Floyd nudged him and pointed at the restaurant with bright silk drapes and the name ‘Il Castello’ painted in cursive letters on the windows. The hitman squeezed his daughter’s hand.

“It sure is,” Rick nodded. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Dude are you kidding me?” Floyd said. “It looks awesome.

“So awesome,” Zoë agreed. “Let’s go.”

The traffic lights switched to red and the little man shone brightly. Zoë slipped her hand into Rick’s and keenly pulled both adults across the zebra crossing. The Colonel felt his heart melt a little bit.

To allow for the visit, Rick had booked the entire restaurant to make sure that no citizens were in immediate danger if Floyd decided to do anything crazy. Precautions like that were orders from Waller; Rick knew perfectly well that Floyd wouldn’t risk losing his precious father-daughter time.

So, the place was empty when they arrived and Zoë got the pick of all the tables. She chose a booth by the window, right opposite an oil painting of the Roman colosseum. The girl immediately began to gaze lovingly at the painting once they were seated, dragging Floyd to sit next to her to see for himself.

They ordered almost straight away; there was no one else to be served. Floyd wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol, so he copied Zoë and chose a pink lemonade. His daughter smiled cheekily at him, poking her father in the side when he did so. “Copy cat,” she called him. Rick, on the other hand, just ordered a cola; Waller had reminded him when he had set off to collect Floyd, that this trip still counted as work for Rick, not pleasure. Although Rick really didn’t see it that way.

Floyd frowned when Rick turned down a meal, settling for a drink only. “You not hungry or something?” The man almost looked offended.

Rick sighed. “Waller’s orders,” he replied reluctantly.

Floyd shifted uncomfortably, “Right, okay.” He had forgotten that this was part of Flag’s job; the Colonel wasn’t here to enjoy himself like the rest of them.

The food was amazing, and entertaining. It seemed both Lawtons were out of their depth. Zoë managed to fling bolognese sauce on both Floyd and Rick’s faces as she attacked her spaghetti with infinite determination. Floyd on the other hand had randomly chosen something with his eyes closed, ending up with oysters. The hitman was tentatively poking his tongue against it as he held an oyster up to his mouth.

Rick laughed.

Floyd just rolled his eyes and continued his exploration.

Luckily the waiter had brought out a bowl of bread for them earlier, so eventually Floyd resorted to eating that, leaving his slimy shellfish mostly untouched. Zoë, on the other had, ate almost all of her meal, despite a lot of the sauce ending up in places it shouldn’t have.

Even Rick reached for a roll of bread, caving in to the niggling of growing hunger. He broke it with his hands and ate it slowly, drinking in the antics of the Lawtons sat opposite him.

Floyd smiled when he saw Rick eating, glad that the man had decided to screw Waller’s orders and join in. It caused the warm, fuzzy feeling Floyd got when he spent time with his daughter to increase exponentially.

After the meal had been paid for, courtesy of Waller of course, Rick suggested they get ice-cream.

Zoë jumped up with excitement, “Mr Rick, you are the best. Dad, isn’t he the best?”

Floyd stood up, smiling as he shrugged on his coat to leave. “Why’d you think we’re friends?” He winked at the Colonel.

Rick smirked knowingly. Then he turned to Zoë, who was leading the way out of the restaurant. “You can call me Rick, you know. No need for the Mister.”

“Okay Rick,” Zoë took his hand. “Now, about this ice-cream you mentioned…”

…

The helicopter ride back to Belle Reve was calm and content, both men happy with the way the evening had turned out. They sat side by side, despite the chopper being empty except for the two of them and the pilot, their knees bumping together with the movement of the vehicle.

Rick cleared his throat. “Can I run something by you?” He looked at Floyd, his eyes searching the man’s face.

Floyd turned to him, catching his eye. “Sure, man.”

“I want to try and convince Waller to let me take the squad out on group trips,” Rick told him. “You all really need to get out more, seriously. But also, it’s a great way to keep you stimulated and invested; much better than being locked away all the time.” He shrugged, “It’s just a thought, but I think it’d be beneficial for everyone.”

Floyd nodded. “That’s genius; I’m totally up for more time away from that shit hole. And I speak for the rest of the squad when I say that, by the way. Do you really think you could persuade Waller?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Rick sighed. “But you guys are doing a service to this country, none of you should be left to rot in Belle Reve like animals; it’s not right.”

“I meant what I said before,” Floyd said. “You are the best; you actually give a damn about us.”

Rick smiled, “I give several damns.”

“Exactly,” Floyd gripped the Colonel’s shoulder. “Where d’you reckon we could go? I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon.”

“Sure; we could do that,” Rick hummed. “Any other suggestions?”

“You bet,” Floyd grinned. “I’ll write you a list when we get back.”

…

The squad’s twice weekly training had recommenced after Flag was released from hospital. Each member took their moment to hug the man, or give him a firm pat on the back, threatening him to never nearly die again; none of them could handle it. Rick tried not to smile. He failed.

On top of those sessions, however, Rick began to make additional visits to see Floyd. He informed Waller when she confronted him about them, that he was simply delivering Zoë letters to her father. He was doing that, but the Colonel always managed to stay for far longer than necessary in Floyd’s cell because they always to get chatting about something.

Most of the time, their conversations started with Zoë. Rick now went to personally collect the girl’s letters from her apartment, so Floyd liked to question him about his daughter’s well-being first of all. Soon though, they’d move on to Floyd’s bed-ridden ex-wife whom Rick was steadily growing more curious about.

On other days, their talks were deeper, and darker. Rick would sometimes begin to mention his time on Rickers Island, before quickly closing off. Now, Floyd knew a little about recovering from traumatic situations, so he recognised the need to let Rick open up in his own time. So instead of pushing him, Floyd hugged. And he had never been hugged back so firmly; it was truly precious.

Both Rick and Floyd were becoming accustomed to their frequent meetings, dependent on them even. In fact, their new rhythm was strengthening so quickly that the two didn’t even realise how much their lives were changing with it.


	2. Chapter 2

  
After the success of their latest mission, Rick had approached Waller and proposed his plan for squad outings. Waller granted Flag permission to take the team out, as long as it counted as their additional reward for that particular mission. Flag accepted immediately.

Rick chose for them to visit an aquarium in New York City. Like with ‘Il Castello’, the Colonel booked the entire place so that the squad could have it to themselves; they would be able to roam around without restraints, away from citizens, and under the watchful eye of Rick and his Black Ops team.

On the helicopter ride over, the squad all admitted to never having been to an aquarium before.

“Good choice of venue, mate,” Digger nudged Rick from his spot next to him.

“Yeah, how’d you know we’d like it?” Harley asked, smiling widely.

Rick shot Floyd a glance, who occupied the seat opposite to him. The Colonel sent him a brief smile, then turned back to Harley. “Lucky guess. I’ve never been either.”

It had in fact been the second item on Floyd’s list of suggested trip destinations, which the hitman wrote up for Rick as promised, and handed it to him when Rick delivered Zoë’s latest letter. But he wasn’t going to let the squad know that; Rick wanted his meetings with Floyd to stay between just the two of them, and Waller.

Once through the entrance to the aquarium, Rick let the squad loose, but warned them that misbehaviour would have severe consequences. He didn’t threaten them with their neck-bombs, he didn’t have to; each squad member knew that Waller made him carry that damn control panel.

They peeled off into groups; Katana and Harley strayed towards the tropical fish section, whilst Digger, Chato and Waylon decided to visit the sharks and rays first. Rick and Floyd lingered behind as the Black Ops team followed the others, hurrying to keep an eye on their assigned squad members.

Rick waved off the last two, who Waller had assigned to watch Floyd. “He’s not going to cause trouble with me here, boys; go and find somewhere else to be.”

The soldiers hesitated briefly, before nodding and disappearing off into the aquarium.

“Trouble is my middle name, you know,” Floyd smirked.

Rick huffed and strolled off. “Maybe. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Floyd barked out a laugh and jogged to catch up. When the hitman sobered up, he grabbed Rick’s bicep and tugged him down the hallway to the right. “Come on, let’s see the penguins.”

“Good choice,” Rick smiled, allowing for the other man to guide him. “Apparently, they have three different species here.”

“Really?” Floyd raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know there were that many.”

“There are more than that, so I’m told,” Rick bumped his side into his friend casually.

“You know, for someone who’s never been to an aquarium before, you know a lot about penguins,” Floyd said as they approached the deep pit that was the penguin enclosure.

Rick shrugged, “I read.”

Down below was a large, open pool with the occasional mound of rock where the majority of the penguins were gathered. The enclosure was split into three sections by glass screens.

“Okay, so these are the Adelie penguins,” Floyd read out from the sign. “They’re tiny.”

Rick leaned over to read the sign, pressing his body almost entirely against Floyd’s from the side. They were standing practically on top of each other. Floyd didn’t bother to move and allow his friend more space.

“What are the other two?” Rick asked, staring at the hitman’s features rather than the sign. Despite being close enough to see the answer for himself.

Floyd cleared his throat. He squinted; the lighting in the aquarium was low, not exactly optimum for reading. “Rockhoppers are the ones with the yellow tufts,” Floyd paused to point them out in the pool. “And the others are Galapagos penguins. But you probably knew that, clever clogs.”

Rick smiled. “I only knew the Rockhopper one, if you must know.”

Floyd grinned from ear to ear, shaking his head. “You’re one weird guy, Rick.”

Rick chuckled, slapping his friend on the back. “Sea lions next, you reckon?”

“Totally,” Floyd said, following the Colonel on to their next destination.

…

“Jesus Harley,” Digger cried out, as the light from her polaroid camera flashed in his face for the second time. “Bugger off, you menace.”

Harley giggled.

She and Katana had decided to traipse after the boys, having already completed a full circuit of the aquarium; needless to say they were both so keen to see everything, that they never managed to stay in one section for very long.

Now, Harley was snapping as many photos of the squad as she could, deciding she wanted to document their first trip out together. The polaroid camera had been her request after the squad’s previous mission and she had yet to use it, wanting to save the precious film for a special occasion, which she consider this to be.

Unfortunately, only Waylon seemed entirely willing to cooperate. Although Katana didn’t out right complain, she never smiled either, only raising her eyebrows skeptically.

“But Digger, I want your photo for the album,” Harley pouted. “Its gonna have photos of the whole squad in it; you don’t wanna be left out.”

Digger rolled his eyes. “Fine, but if I’ve got to be in it, so has Chato. Non-negotiable.”

“Perfect,” Harley grinned and raised the camera to her eye. “Shuffle together boys.”

“Thanks, dickhead,” Chato muttered, being quickly hauled against Waylon’s large, scaly side.

Waylon gave Harley his toothiest grin.

“That’s beautiful, Waylon,” she said, the flash sparking as she took the photo. Slowly, the picture emerged from a slot on the camera and Harley lifted it up. “This one is golden; I can’t wait to show you.” She pocketed the little photo to keep it in the dark so it could develop properly.

“Great,” Digger sighed heavily. “Why don’t you go and bug Floyd and Rick, huh? Where are those bastards anyway?”

Harley’s face lit up. “Yes,” she squeaked and took Katana’s arm, who swiftly pushed her away. “Come on, let’s go find them.” Harley grabbed at Katana again. This time the other woman just muttered something to herself in Japanese and let herself be dragged through the aquarium.

…

“Shut up,” Floyd forced Rick away from him, a smile breaking onto his face. “You’re such a dick, seriously.”

Rick was doubled over with laughter. The Colonel had just hidden from Floyd, causing the hitman to worry something had happened to him when Rick didn’t reply to his calls. Then, he’d jumped out on his friend like a little child, scaring the defenceless man half to death. Rick thought it was hilarious.

“Why are we friends?” Floyd said, staring at him. “You such a kid.” He was slowly approaching the laughing man, “I can’t believe they let you work with guns.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick gasped. “I couldn’t help it; you were so distracted by the jellyfish.”

“They have no brains, Rick,” Floyd exclaimed. “That’s fucking cool, admit it.”

Rick’s laughter was dying as he took in Floyd’s serious face. “Yeah, it’s definitely cool. Look man, that was a dickish move; I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Floyd told him. “I’ll get you back; then we’ll be even.” He smirked wickedly.

The Colonel’s eyebrows flew up. He began to retreat from his friend’s steadily approaching form. “Hey now, I was just messing around…”

“I know,” Floyd drew closer. He wasn’t sure what he was planning to do but it involved freaking Rick out, the same way he had been only a few minutes ago.

Rick caught Floyd’s gaze, which was dark and predatory. But he found he couldn’t step back from it, he didn’t want to. He was simply stuck staring at his friend like his eyes, nose, ears, mouth, were the most interesting things in the world.

Floyd’s hands found his waist and Rick forgot how to breathe. Then the hitman was leaning in. And nipped his neck.

“The hell, man?” Rick sprung back, palm covering the tingling skin that Floyd’s teeth had grazed. The other was was laughing lightly, a warm smile painted on that lovely mouth of his; Rick certainly didn’t consider Floyd’s mouth lovely, he meant, well, some other adjective. Rick glared and let his hand fall to his side.

Floyd moved to grip Rick’s shoulder. “Now we’re even. I wanna see the sharks before we have to leave.” He wound hand around the crook of his friend’s arm and together they made their way towards the sharks and rays section.

“We’ll need to hurry,” Rick told him. “The chopper’ll be here soon.”

“No problemo,” Floyd said. He paused, then cleared his throat. “You’re not pissed at me, are you?”

Rick rolled his eyes, “A little. You’ve got some sharp teeth, man.”

Floyd didn’t reply, his mind wandered at the memory of his mouth against Rick’s skin and suppressed a shudder. The Colonel tasted really good; was that weird? They were friends, sure, but friends didn’t go around biting each other. Floyd couldn’t really remember what had possessed him to do such a thing; he obviously hadn’t been all there. He hoped the biting wouldn’t scare Rick away because Floyd really liked their time together.

…

  
“Hey, where have you two been all this time?” Chato greeted as the squad gathered in wait of the helicopter, surrounded by the Black Ops team who all appeared much happier now they were nearly free to go home.

Rick and Floyd were the last to arrive, walking side by side so their arms were but a hair’s width apart.

The Colonel was had his walkie-talkie out. “Ready for evacuation, Waller,” he said. “No issues with the squad Ma’am. Alright, roger that.”

Floyd turned to answer Chato’s question. “Just checking out the sharks real quick; I didn’t wanna miss out on seeing them before we had to go. Never know when I’ll next be in an aquarium, you know.”

Chato nodded, believing him.

Digger, on the other hand, snorted. “Whatever, mate.”

Floyd frowned and went to say something, but was cut off by Rick who announced the helicopter’s approach. The squad was to be marched in single-file towards the chopper, with a soldier flanking them on either side; their usual travel formation, as per Waller’s orders. Rick led the way.

As they were all buckling into their respective seats in the helicopter, Harley slipped something into Floyd’s hand from beside him. He turned to her, an eyebrow raised. Harley simply smiled and cradled her beloved camera with both hands.

Once they had taken off, Floyd flipped over the small, square piece of glossy paper to find it was a photograph that Harley had taken in the aquarium. It was of him and Rick. Harley had managed to capture the moment just before Floyd had leant in to catch the skin of Rick’s neck between his teeth. God, he thought; they were standing so close to each other, his own hands gripping Rick’s waist possessively. Floyd felt a flush explode across his skin, burning his cheeks. His eyes darted throughout the cabin to see if anyone had noticed the change in his demeanour; they hadn’t, thankfully.

Floyd pocketed the photograph for safe-keeping, then nudged Harley. “Thanks,” he said.

She smiled knowingly. “Don’t sweat it, handsome.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for homophobic language, implied sexual harassment, and prison punishment.

The photograph had its specific spot in Floyd’s cell, tucked safely away under his pillow, to be looked at every morning when the man woke up. He liked to do that to remind Floyd of what he had to live for; he had the squad now, and Rick, as well as Zoë. Whose letters, on the other hand, were stored underneath his mattress; Floyd didn’t want to risk anyone knowing about her who didn’t have to. Those letters and that photograph were a thin veil that kept Floyd’s self-destructive side from flooding in.

“It’s feeding time at the zoo,” the guard banged on the door of Floyd’s cell. Then the hatch flew open to reveal the grimy face of Harrison, a disgusting man who styled his hair in such a way that screamed ‘pedophile’. “Here, boy; here’s some yummy shit-loaf.” The guard grinned menacingly, holding out a plate of unappealing meatloaf.

Floyd moved away from his bed, letting the photograph fall from his hand onto the sheets. “What’s in it this time, chief?” He sent the man a cocky smile, “I hope it’s maggots.”

The guard tilted the plate so that the food slipped off of it and onto the floor. “Maggots, and worms; you’re favourite. Probably some dust and dirt too, now, I reckon.” His hand slipped back through the hatch with the plate still in his grasp. “Eat it off the floor like a good little mutt, would you?”

Floyd dropped his eyes to the meatloaf, unwilling to give Harrison the satisfaction of watching him kneel and scoop up the dirty food to eat it from his bare hands; he still had some dignity, damn it. Floyd just twitched his lips into a smile and returned to sit on his bed. “I’m alright, thanks.”

Harrison didn’t look impressed. Then smirked, “Are you back-talking me, boy?”

Floyd didn’t answer; he wasn’t going to get beaten up over this shit.

“So you’re ignoring me? That’s not nice,” Harrison pouted. Then he squinted, his eyes catching on something within the small cell. “What’s that you have there?”

Floyd stiffened. His photograph; it hadn’t been authorised by Waller, who informed the guards of every possession that her Task Force X were allowed to keep thanks to her rewards programme. But the camera was Harley’s, so technically Floyd shouldn’t have a photograph. He stayed silent as the guard fumbled with the cell’s lock.

Harrison called for back-up on his walkie-talkie.

A group of guards rushed down the hallway towards Floyd’s cell.

Floyd clenched his fists and turned to gaze down at the photograph, his eyes burning. What an idiot he’d been, leaving it lying around blatantly like it was nothing important. He didn’t try to hide it, he didn’t want the guards to bloody shoot him. Floyd knew he was going to pay hell for this one.

The door burst open and men came running in with their shields ups, forcing Floyd to stumble out into the hallway. The hitman braced himself for their reaction.

“Holy fuck Harrison, take a look at this,” one guard called out. Another wolf-whistled.

Floyd clenched his jaw.

“Wow Lawton,” Harrison turned to face the hitman, staring at the photograph with a shit-eating grin. “Didn’t take you for a little cocksucker. And is that Colonel Flag?” He whistled. “Shit. Should’ve seen that one coming I guess; the man’s gone soft on that messed up freak show of yours. What do they call it, again?” Harrison walked over to Floyd. “The Suicide Squad, that’s right. Well, Flag won’t last long here when this gets out.”

Floyd glared harder at the guard, and if looks could kill, his would’ve done.

“Got nothing to say, Lawton?” Harrison said. He pinched the prisoner’s cheek mockingly. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.” He turned behind him briefly, “Men, take this one to the punishment room; he’s not authorised to have this piece of homo shit.”

Guard grabbed Lawton by the arms roughly and dragged the man half way across the prison, unrelentingly. All Floyd could do was let them; no one was going to stop these men from beating the living daylights out of him, and Floyd wasn’t going to waste energy he’d undoubtedly need later.

…

The punishment room was a barren, open room with padded walls. In the centre sat a solid chair with straps to keep the arms, legs and head of the victim in place. Floyd was chucked unceremoniously into it and held down by five guards as Harrison pulled at the straps, making sure they were extra tight.

Next, Harrison chose one of the ten different bats that hung from the far wall. The one he picked was long and white, stained with dried blood.

Floyd suppressed the urge to shiver.

“This’ll teach you not to keep stuff you shouldn’t, boy,” Harrison told him as he approached the chair. “You’re in prison, not some luxury hotel; no pictures of your fucking boyfriend are allowed.” He traced Floyd’s cheek with the tip of his baton. “Don’t know what he sees in you; you’re a homicidal mess. You murdered people for money, boy; you’ve already got a spot marked out for you in Hell. And you’re a flaming homo, so it’ll be extra special.” Harrison sighed, “I wonder what Flag’ll think when he sees you all broken up. I bet that’ll put him off; he probably prefers his eye-candy intact.”

Harrison waved at one of the guards to lift Floyd’s prison shirt, which was the only warning the man received before the guard slugged him in the stomach with his baton, five times in a row.

Floyd slammed his eyes shut; he swore he felt his organs bruising.   
  
After Harrison had had his fill, the baton was passed around the group; each guard got their turn to damage the prisoner, and each targeted a different part of his body. Some even dismissed the baton, preferring to punch Floyd’s face directly with their fists.

By the end of it, about half and hour later, Floyd was pretty sure that one of his arms was fractured and both of his eyes were blackened. He supposed he was lucky if he wasn’t bleeding from the inside, but there was no way he would know if he was, until it was too late.

…

After depositing the prisoner back into his cell, Harrison paused by the open hatch to rip up the precious picture, making sure that Floyd could see him do it. Then the guard slammed the hatch shut and strolled away, whistling to himself.

Floyd carefully bent his knees to perch on the edge of his bed. He felt exhausted, but at the same time, his body was screaming too much that he daren’t lie down. If he did, there was no guarantee that Floyd would be able to sit up again. So he just stayed put, staring blankly at his cell door.

Minutes ticked by painfully slowly.

Floyd tried to convince himself that the photograph was worth the beating, that this miserable life was worth being forced to behave for, or even worth living for. He sighed, his lungs crying out in protest; every breath was agony at the moment. Perhaps if he just stopped breathing…

No, Floyd though desperately, and sank to his knees on the floor. He shuffled around and stuck a hand under his mattress, feeling for one of Zoë’s letters. These were his authorised possessions; these were safe to have as a life-line. Floyd persuaded himself to crawl into his bed, which he did with immense difficulty and pain. Then, once lying down, the hitman cradled Zoë’s letter against his chest, close to his aching heart.

He didn’t cry; it hurt too much to.

…

“Take your hands off me, Floyd,” Chato said, his voice forcibly calm.

The hitman had him pressed up against the wall of their training facility, his strong hands keeping Chato in place. Floyd stared down at him, eyes dark and mouth curled up into a snarl. He squeezed his hand tighter around the pyrokinetic’s neck.

“Floyd,” Chato growled, feeling his hands begin to grow hot. He let out a sudden blast of heat, sending Floyd flying across the warehouse, his training shirt burnt to a crisp.

The rest of the squad had stopped what they were doing to watch.

“Santana, stand down,” Rick ordered, rushing over to where Floyd was sprawled out on the floor. “Now,” he added for good measure.

The pyrokinetic deflated and moved away, his face like a statue.

“Floyd, what the hell,” Rick helped the man into a sitting position.

Floyd winced and a hand flew to the new hole in his shirt, the fresh bruises on his abdomen clearly visible. Anger flooded his body again, and before he knew it Floyd was clambering to his feet and glaring at Chato. The only thing that prevented him from running at the man, to bait him into a fight, was Rick’s presence; the hand around his bicep.

Rick looked between the two men, then turned to the squad. “Everyone switch up partners. Floyd and I need to have a little chat.” He tugged the hitman towards the periphery of the room and backed the man gently into the wall. Rick crossed his arms. “What the hell’s up with you Floyd? You’re pissing everyone off, including me.”

Floyd’s anger fizzled out of his eyes. He just stared blankly at the Colonel, unwilling to answer.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Floyd; I only want to help. Why’d you try and start a fight with Chato?” He eyes fluttered down to the other man’s bold bruising, then back up, frowning.

“Chato said something that,” Floyd shook his head. “I dunno man, it just got me riled up for some reason.”

Rick’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you this aggressive towards the squad.”

“The guards have been dicks,” Floyd said flippantly. “It’s nothing new.”

“They beat you,” Rick stated, his own anger beginning to show. “Did they have a reason to?”

Floyd glared harder at him for a moment, then he slumped against the wall defeatedly. “I had an unauthorised possession; technically, they could do it.”

Rick frowned, “What unauthorised possession? ‘Cause you know Zoë’s letters are completely checked out.”

Floyd shook his head. “It wasn’t them. It was a photo that Harley gave me, from the squad’s trip to the aquarium.”

“A photograph,” Rick clarified, eyes wide. “The guards beat the crap out of you over the tiniest scrap of paper?” He clenched his jaw to stop himself from doing something rash. Rick inhaled deeply. “I’ll get it authorised for you to have a replacement photo; you and Harley can try and arrange something. Is that alright?”

Floyd nodded, not expecting that. “Thanks, man.” Although, he was never going to get a picture of that particular moment ever again; it would be lost forever now.

Rick turned to leave, then paused. He looked Floyd in the eyes. “I’ll speak with the guards; to make sure this never happens again.” He shook his head, exasperated, “I swear they employ creepier bastards every time.”

Floyd tried to laugh, but ended up choking on the pain it caused. “You can say that again.”

Rick raised a hand to grasp Floyd’s shoulder soothingly. “What was the picture of; will Harley have another like it?”

The hitman bit his lip. “It was, um, of us. At the aquarium.” Floyd met Rick’s gaze briefly and could’ve sworn the Colonel knew exactly which moment he was referring too.

“That sucks,” Rick said. “Maybe she’ll take one of us on the next trip?” He smiled softly.

Floyd realised what Rick meant. He cleared his throat and grinned, “Sounds like a plan.” The hitman stepped away from the wall and gave Rick a slap on the shoulder. “Come on, we’ve got training to do.”

Rick rolled his eyes and followed Floyd back over to where the squad was sparring together. Rick made sure to partner up with Floyd for the remainder of that session, you know, just to make sure he behaved.

…

For the rest of the week, Floyd noticed that the guards were careful not to step into his cell again. Sometimes they even scrambled back out of the small room after mindlessly falling into old habits. Also, their grubby hands never touched any of his things anymore. Floyd was thankful for both; Rick had obviously been true to his word about dealing with the situation.

However, the guards did not fail to incessantly prod and tease Floyd verbally, every time they came to his cell, about the hitman’s relationship with Colonel Flag. So Floyd tried to ignore it all as best as he could; neither denying or confirming any of what they said about his status as a filthy, cock-sucking little homo; he’d hoped it would dissuade them.

It didn’t. These men appeared to be obsessed with the apparent revelation of Floyd’s sexuality, and tried to the best of their abilities to sexually harass and threaten the hitman as much as possible.

Now, Floyd had suffered at the hands of many people in his life; his abusive father, street criminals, Batman. But the increasingly demeaning treatment of these guards who insisted on commenting on his ‘pretty mouth’, and pinching and touching him inappropriately whenever they could, just for laughs; this was the most downtrodden that Floyd had ever felt, the most powerless.

So the prisoner began to bite back. He’d held off as long as he could; trying hard not to do anything that would warrant punishment for so long. But now his previous injuries had healed, Floyd felt emboldened to try and fight to retain what was left of his dignity. He threatened the guards who dared to taunt him, tease him or touch him. And swung at the ones who didn’t cease even under threats of death.

Floyd received more punishment beatings in that month following the photograph incident than any other before.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next month, Rick becomes increasingly concerned about Floyd’s physical well-being. Every time the Colonel delivered the next of Zoë’s letters, he noticed fresh bruises on the man’s face, and he dared not think of what damage he’d find elsewhere. However, Rick had been holding off confronting Floyd about it, knowing the man was touchy about this sort of thing.

But by the third week, when Floyd’s cheek bore a long, deliberate cut, and finger-shaped bruises lined his throat, Rick couldn’t stand for it any longer.

“Are you gonna come in?” Floyd asked him with a raised eyebrow. “Or are you just gonna stand there staring all day?”

Rick shook his head silently and entered the cell, closing the door behind him. He slipped out Zoë’s letter from within his jacket and handed it to Floyd, who took it from him eagerly.

“Thanks. How was my little girl when you saw her?” Floyd smiled, drinking in the decorations on the envelope as he sat down on his bed. “Is she over that cold yet?” He glanced up briefly, and patted the space beside him on the bed.

Rick nodded, moving to sit next to the other man. “Zoë looked much better. She was back to her bouncy self again.”

Floyd grinned and nodded. “That’s great; I hate seeing my baby sick.”

Rick watched him and hummed absently. The Colonel obviously had no idea how it felt to see your child ill; he had no children himself. But seeing Zoë all pale and bunged up, certainly set Rick on edge in a way he hadn’t been for a while. “What about you, Floyd?” Rick asked. “How have you been?”

Floyd was keenly reading is daughter’s letter. He paused, then turned to catch Rick eyeing his new set of wounds. Floyd huffed and sat back so he was leant against the wall. “Can’t keep anything from you, can I?”

“It’s not exactly something you can hide,” Rick frowned. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

Floyd rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s the guards again; I didn’t want to mention it because I know you’ve already interfered once, you shouldn’t have to do it again.”

Rick’s chest ached. “What have they been doing?”

“They’ve been real dicks about that photograph, you know, the one they confiscated; now they think we’re in some kind of relationship that we’re not. They use that as an insult, taunting me about you and stuff.” Floyd rubbed his hands over his face, “I mean, the whole relationship thing isn’t an insult; I don’t really care about that shit. But it’s demeaning and degrading when they try and use it against me. They insult you too.”

Rick was so shocked, he could barely string words together. He didn’t know which part to tackle first. “So you started to fight back, is that why they’ve been punishing you?”

“Yeah,” Floyd said quietly. “I tried not to, God, I tried to hold back for so long. But I wanted to hold onto some dignity. You better not incriminate me for that.”

The Colonel’s brows flew up. “Floyd, I don’t blame you for any of this. I find it hard enough to not punch the guards when I visit, but you have to live with this crap every day. No, you’re not the one at fault here.”

“Thanks, man,” Floyd smiled briefly. “I’m sorry about you being dragged into this; them thinking you’re gay when you’re not. That one’s definitely on me.” The hitman shook his head and leant forward with his elbows on his thighs. “If it weren’t for that dumb photo…”

Rick grabbed Floyd’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t you blame yourself for that either. I don’t give a flying fuck about what any of the guards here think about me, or you, or me and you, okay? Most of them deserved to be locked up more than you do for the amount they get off on punishing you guys.” Rick snarled, “Besides, none of them will be working here for much longer, if I can help it.”

“Dude, you can’t be serious?” Floyd gaped at him. “How’re you planning to swing that one?”

Rick sighed. “I’m gonna chat with Waller; tell her that these guards are damaging her assets beyond necessary means, both physically and psychologically. She won’t risk this taking its toll on her new Task Force X.”

“Damn, Flag,” Floyd whistled. “I’ll be real impressed if you manage to get away with this one.”

Rick moved to stand. “I have the right motivation; I’ll get it done.”

Floyd also stands, to see his friend across to the cell door. “Thanks again for stopping by.”

Rick just pulled him in for a hug, pulling the man against his chest. “It’s my pleasure, man; you’re a pretty cool guy, Floyd.”

The two parted.

The hitman was left speechless; left to watch on in silence as Rick stepped out into the hallway, sending Floyd a quick wink before shutting the metal door behind him.

Floyd let out a long breath. Damn son, he thought. You’re being spoiled by this one.

…

Rick waited outside of Waller’s office, sat in a chair, trying to read his book, but failing. He was still on the same page he had been five minutes ago; none of the words were sinking in. Rick’s eyes kept on sliding over to his watch. He tapped his fingers against the arms of the chair impatiently, or was it anxiously? The Colonel had got barely any sleep the night before, having been kept awake with the worry that Waller would dismiss his proposal, with no thought to the squad’s well-being. It wasn’t exactly an unlikely scenario.

The office door opened, and Waller stared down at him with her usual soul-searching gaze. “Colonel Flag, you wanted to speak with me?”

Rick stood up, saluting. “Yes Ma’am; it’s about the squad.”

Waller nodded and held the door open for him. “Then you best come in.”

Rick entered, taking deep breaths to try and sooth his rising pulse.

The two sat down, on their respective sides of Waller’s cherrywood desk.

“So, what is it you want to tell me?” Waller asked, leaning back with an entirely relaxed demeanour.

Rick cleared his throat. “I want to propose the construction of a new holding facility, for Task Force X personnel only.” He had adapted what he planned to ask her since seeing Floyd reckoning this would be his best bet.

There was a pause.

“Why?” Waller countered, giving away no reaction.

“Belle Reve is a well-known establishment; a new facility would provide greater security and secrecy, matching the ‘need-to-know’ basis of this operation,” Flag continued.

“I see what you’re trying to do, Flag,” Waller said.

Flag opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t try to deny it,” his boss smiled. “I receive reports on them all; I know exactly what hardships the guards are putting them through.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it?” Flag bit out, clenching his fists.

Waller raised an eyebrow. “They are criminals, Flag; murderers, thieves, beasts. They should be treated as such.”

“Not if you want their cooperation, Ma’am,” Flag argued. “Fear will not keep them in line forever.”

Waller leant forward. “And what exactly is it you’re suggesting will keep them in line, Colonel? Loyalty? Love? Are they even capable of such things?”

Flag narrowed his eyes. “You witnessed my rescue from Rickers Island; I think they already are.”

Waller nodded and smirked. “You’re right. This Task Force has really come together under your leadership, Mr Flag; you better not abuse this privilege.”

“I won’t, Ma’am,” Flag said.

“Good. I will consider your proposal, Colonel,” Waller told him. “I have toyed with a similar idea myself. Now, get your ass out of my office; I have work to do.”

Flag stood up, saluted, and left as promptly as possible. The meeting had gone better than he’d feared, and that’s all Rick could hope for really.

…

The apartment was dark when Rick finally returned home. He locked the door behind him, then padded quietly over to the bathroom, presuming that June would already be asleep. Rick stopped when he saw a light in the corner of his eye. He turned to find that the living room lamp had been left on.

June was curled up on the arm-chair, asleep, with a book left open in her lap.

Rick shook his head, smiling warmly. He contemplated moving her, then decided against it; June had been struggling to get a good night’s sleep since the Enchantress’ defeat. In fact, Rick had been so busy with work lately, he’d barely had time to talk to June about her recovery. He felt guilt clog up his veins, his chest hard with regret, and anxiety over the constant pressure of trying to please everyone he cared about; June, Floyd, the squad.   
  
Reluctantly, Rick left June sleeping in the living room after switching the lamp off, and moved to get himself ready for bed. He hoped they’d have time in the morning to talk; it had really been too long, considering they were living together.

…

June was up and making breakfast when Rick emerged from the bedroom, his hair tousled with sleep and chest bare. She was scrambling eggs, which made Rick’s mouth water.

“Good morning,” she greeted, sending Rick a small smile. “Good sleep? You obviously got home late last night.”

Rick sighed, manoeuvring his way around the kitchen to be of some help. “It was fine, thanks. I got back after midnight; went to see Waller about something important.”

June nodded. “And how was that?”

“Better than I feared it might be,” Rick admitted. He cleared his throat, gathering plates and cutlery for the two of them. “How about you, did you sleep well? I found you on the chair when I came home. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

June smiled. “Not too bad actually; no nightmares, which is an improvement.” She served the eggs. “Could you grab the toast?” June pointed at the toaster.

“Sure,” Rick said, hurrying to pick up the hot toast and drop it onto the plates. “Thanks, this looks amazing,” he said as June handed him his.

June simply nodded, taking her seat at the table.

They both ate in silence.

Then June put down her cutlery. “Rick, we need to talk,” she said, staring at him with an unreadable expression. “Do you have the time?”

Rick paused in his eating. That didn’t sound good. “Of course, I have time,” he said. Today was actually his scheduled time to pick up Zoë’s letter, but he wasn’t about to tell June that now. “What do you want to talk about?” Rick tried to ignore the growing sense of foreboding.

June sighed and nodded, obviously relieved. “I, I’ve been, um.” She scratched the back of her head lightly. “I’m moving to England.”

Rick dropped his fork. “Um, okay.” He was speechless; of all the things he’d expected her to say, this had not been one of them. For a moment he feared she was going to say she was pregnant, but then he remembered that they hadn’t had sex in about four months.

“I just think I need a new start,” June told him. “You know I’ve been suffering with the aftermath of the possession. And, I’m sorry to say this Rick, but you’re never here when I need you to be; you’re too invested in your work. What I’m saying is that, you can’t provide me with the help and support I need to overcome this. I don’t mean that in a nasty way either, it’s just the truth.”

“I understand,” Rick said. He really did; he wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend in terms of moral or emotional support. “I really do; you need to put your needs first. And I can’t do that, not with this job.”

June nodded. “I’m not going to ask you to leave your job, Rick, or move away with me. I know that your job is part of who you are, I would never ask you to change that.”

“So, would you like to break up?” Rick smiled sadly; it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that what you’re trying to ask? Because, you certainly don’t need my permission to leave.”

“Yes, I am,” June said, her eyes soft. “And I know. But I really wanted you to understand why; I’m just not the same as I was before, neither are you I think. We need different things now.”

Rick nodded. “When do you leave?”

“Next month,” June replied. “It’s not much notice, I know. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Rick said. “I’ll help you in whatever way I can; anything, just ask.”

June smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. “Thank you. Besides, in the scheme of things, I think this’ll be best for you too.”

Rick raised an eyebrow.

“With me about of the equation, you’ll no longer have to worry about dividing your time between me and your squad,” June smiled knowingly at him. “Your not in love with me anymore, Rick, nor I you; there’s no point in us pretending that this is something it isn’t.”

“I still care for you,” Rick told her, taking her hand.

“And I you. I’ll keep in touch, Rick,” June promised. She squeezed his hand before moving to clear the table.

Rick caught her wrist. “Let me, please. It’s the least I can do.”

June nodded and her lips twitched into a smile. “I’ll see you later, Rick. Take care.”

“You too, June.”


	5. Chapter 5

Rick felt lighter as he stepped out of the helicopter and onto the gravel courtyard of Belle Reve. He didn’t feel as though he was living a double life anymore; neither him nor June were really made for domestics. Rick didn’t know how to feel as he had watched the woman who he used to love walk out of his life and into airport security. He thought he’d feel emptier. But in fact, Rick returned to work with the feeling that a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

“I want Task Force X assembled in the court yard in five,” Rick ordered the guards. “Tell them they’ve been assigned another mission, and they’ll come willingly. I don’t want any rough-housing, d’you hear that?”

“Will you collect Lawton as usual, Colonel?” The head guard asked.

A few light sniggers broke out across the group.

“I can handle Lawton alone,” Rick dismissed, knowing what was going on here. “Now go; get it done.”

“Yes, sir,” the guards chanted before scrambling away to gather the prisoners.

Rick sighed heavily, then started off towards Floyd’s cell.

…

They were still in the courtyard half an hour later.

Rick and his Black Ops team surrounded a large put-up table, discussing mission tactics, whilst the squad hung back to talk amongst themselves.

“What’s taking so long, d’you reckon?” Harley said to the others, popping her bubblegum innocuously.

“This doesn’t bode well,” Chato mumbled.

Floyd stared over his shoulder at Rick and the other soldiers, all in their monochromatic uniform, all wearing the same serious expression.

Harley sent Chato a look.

The pyrokinetic tilted his head and mouthed ‘what?’.

Harley jerked a thumb towards the distracted Floyd. She rolled her eyes, “Someone should go and ask what’s up.” She was staring deliberately at Chato, then waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Realisation dawned on Chato’s face. “Hey Floyd, why don’t you go over and find out what’s taking so long, yeah? We’re bored senseless here.”

Floyd flung his head around at the sound of his name. “Huh?”

“Go and ask Rick what’s taking so long,” Chato repeated.

Floyd dragged his eyes across the squad. “Fine,” he said, hardly hesitating before heading over to the huddle of soldiers.

“That was easier than I expected,” Harley noted, smiling as she watched Floyd leave. “He’s so whipped.”

Croc huffed in approval.

“So’s Rick,” Chato added.

Harley nodded, “You’re right; they’re both hopeless.”

…

This mission was infinitely trickier than their last; perhaps even as dangerous as their face-off with the Enchantress, except, without such high stakes.

Waller sent them in to subdue and capture what appeared to be rogue meta-humans, who had begun to wreak havoc across a city in the neighbouring state of Texas. However, it was proving ever more difficult to reign back the power of their targets, and Rick was beginning to consider taking the meta-humans out, which Waller had authorised to be their Plan B.

There were only four of them, so number-wise, it seemed like this fight would be a clear win for Task Force X. But these were meta-humans with some really handy skills; one was half-man and half-shark, which was something Rick didn’t want to ponder too long about, and another could control electrical currents. That lady had already caused the inner city to lose its power, plummeting them all into darkness.

Rick clenched his jaw, taking another shot at her. Why did all their missions have to take place at nighttime goddamn it?

Fortunately for them, the electric-lady had yet to use her powers for much else. Although, she happened to also be highly skilled at martial arts. Typical.   
  
The sound of millions of rounds firing in a seemingly constant stream of bullets, alerted Rick to Floyd’s approach. He shot at each of the meta-humans; but, they wore all bullet-proof clothes, as they’d soon discovered. “I’m getting sick of this,” Floyd grunted, ducking to join Rick as he took cover an incoming attack. “My bullets can’t fucking touch them with those suits on.”

Rick grabbed Floyd’s arm and nodded. “You’re right. We can’t defeat them with guns.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Floyd stared into his eyes.

Rick bit his lip. “We’ll need to use Chato. If we get them cornered in an enclosed space we can torch them; not even a meta-human could survive that. Is there anywhere nearby suitable?”

“City hall’s just a block away, we passed it on our way over,” Floyd told him. “We’ll need a distraction.”

“You handle that; lure the meta-humans through the front entrance of the city hall,” Rick ordered. “My team and Chato will deal with the rest.”

“Copy that,” Floyd smirked. “Let’s hope this works.”

Rick grimaced, then moved his hand up off Floyd’s shoulder to the back of the man’s neck. “Take care, alright?”

“Yeah man, you too,” Floyd squeezed Rick’s arm before swivelling around. He leaned to check if the coast was clear, then darted out, weaving his way over to where Croc and Digger were battling away.

Rick let out a sigh, and lifted his walkie-talkie to deliver the instructions to his team.

…

“Hey, leave him alone, you bastard,” Digger growled, launching his boomerang at the electric lady, who was steadily approaching Floyd.

The weapon sliced the meta-human’s back, cutting into her bullet-proof suit. But it failed to slow her.

Floyd was distracted, firing shots at the giant shark-man as he led him towards the city hall building. He stepped back into a puddle.

Electric lady raised a hand and dropped into a crouch. Her fingers touched the water.

“Floyd, watch out,” Digger cried, running forward and catching his boomerang as it doubled-back to him.

Light fizzled from the lady’s fingers.

Floyd turned at Digger’s voice in time to see the transfer of energy from fingers, to water, to his feet. “Shit,” Floyd gasped as he fell, shaking. Electricity shuddered through him. He lost control of his hands, letting his guns drop into the water.

Everything went dark.

…

Rick threw a glance over at the squad after directing Chato towards where his Black Ops team was retreating to, having explained their new plan. He heard Digger shout, then saw Floyd fall. Rick stopped thinking and ran over.

One of the meta-humans was knelt by a large puddle, in which Floyd now lay.

Rick raised his gun and shot at her back, where her suit had been torn away. She went down.

“Rick,” Harley screamed from his left. “Rick, she electrocuted Floyd.”

Rick clenched his jaw. “Keep leading them away, I’ll deal with Floyd. Go,” he barked. The Colonel sprinted and collapsed onto his knees by the limp body of his friend. He raised a two fingers to Floyd’s neck. No pulse. “Fuck,” Rick swore, rolling Floyd’s body over so he lay flat on his back.

He started compressions, his eyes never leaving Floyd’s face. Then Rick opened his friend’s mouth, pressed his own against it, blowing air into Floyd’s throat. He sat back; no change.

Rick pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Waller, we need immediate evacuation; Floyd’s been hit.”

The Colonel re-started compressions.

“Flag, that isn’t a valid reason for an evacuation. Deadshot is one of many; leave him, he may still survive. Your priority are the rogue meta-humans,” Waller replied through the walkie-talkie.

Rick choked, ignoring her. He moved to administer the second round of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Afterwards, he checked Floyd’s pulse again. Still nothing. “Damn it,” he spat.

He began more compressions.

Then the Colonel tested again for a pulse. It was there, but weak. Rick raised a hand to check his friend’s breathing. That too was back, but barely. He slumped back, running his hands through his hair, exhausted.

Rick was hauling Floyd across the empty road and into a secluded part of the street when his walkie-talkie fired up again.

“Flag, we’ve torched the building,” his lieutenant said.

The Colonel gently lay Floyd’s head on ground, before raising his device to reply. “Roger that. Were the targets all secured inside?”

“Yes, sir. They wouldn’t have had time to escape before Diablo lit the place up.”

Rick sighed, “Good. Return to the evacuation site, but have Waylon sent to my location.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Floyd was breathing more steadily now, but his vitals were still a far cry from healthy.

Rick laid a hand over his friend’s chest to feel the rhythmic movement of his lungs. He tried to stow the anger that was boiling in his blood. Waller’s reaction had sent his fear spiking; he knew she only viewed the squad as assets, but surely his boss should’ve cared more for Floyd’s life than she had. He was by far one of the most valuable assets on the squad.

Obviously she considered this mission to be more important. But why?

“Rick, what happened?” Waylon stepped out of the street, his clothes ripped beyond repair.

“Floyd’s heart stopped,” Rick explained. “I brought him back, but his vitals are weak. I need you to carry him to the evacuation site, please.”

Waylon lifted Floyd up with ease as Rick watched on, wishing he could’ve returned the favour for Floyd. But he was the leader of this mission; he couldn’t divert his attention like that.

“Thanks Waylon,” Rick nodded, as the two walked back together, side-by-side.

“Anytime,” Waylon said. “I know how much he means to you.”

The Colonel raised an eyebrow at the reptilian man, although stayed silent, unsure of what the implications of that were.

…

“Sir, Waller says she’s been trying to contact you, but has received no reply,” the lieutenant asked as Rick and Waylon approached the helicopter. “Is everything alright? Is your walkie-talkie broken?”

“Not now, Lieutenant.” Rick brushed past the soldier. “Fetch a gurney for Lawton,” the Colonel ordered a nearby soldier, whilst heading towards the cockpit.

Waylon laid Floyd down on the gurney that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“What happened to him?” Harley asked, eyes wide.

After securing the gurney, Waylon took his own seat. “Heart stopped by electric lady.”

“Is he even alive?” Digger raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, he’s alive,” Rick answered, re-entering the cabin. “Just about. We’re heading to the hospital first, then back to Belle Reve.”

Silence filled the cabin as Rick took the seat closest to Floyd, which Chato had prevented Waylon from nabbing earlier. The Colonel couldn’t keep his eyes off of his friend, he couldn’t stop thinking about how close they had come to losing him. It made Rick realise that the Suicide Squad really was just that, sent to their deaths on every mission; it was a miracle they’d all made it back so far.

…

“Flag, I’m assigning Colonel Samson joint control over task Force X,” Waller said, staring across at the two soldiers. “All necessary information about the squad and their missions will be made available to him from this point forward.”

Flag clenched his jaw but didn’t reply.

“Samson, you’re dismissed,” Waller told the older Colonel.

“Yes Ma’am,” Samson saluted then exited her office promptly.

“I hope you realise why I’m doing this, Flag,” Waller continued after the door had closed. “Frankly, i find your recent insubordination concerning, and if your relationship with Lawton starts to impede on your ability to follow orders, I will have you removed from this operation entirely. Do you understand the severity of the situation, Mr Flag?”

Flag nodded, his expression steely. “I understand, Ma’am.”

Waller smiled. “Good. Now, tread lightly. You’re a good soldier, Flag, but this operation must be put above all else; you can be replaced. Dismissed.”

Flag saluted and left, not wanting to linger in a room that gave him the urge to commit cold-blooded murder.

…

“I’m sorry, Flag,” Samson said as the other man closed the office door behind him. “Can’t have been easy to hear that.”

Flag shot Samson a dangerous look.

The older Colonel raised his hands with a sheepish grin. “Hey now, just trying to be friendly; we’re going to be working together now, after all.”

“You’re the one who led my squad on the Rickers Island mission,” Flag said.

“I am,” Samson nodded. “I can certainly see why Waller’s concerned; that squad’s real loyal to you. It makes you a formidable man, Mr Flag. Or, can I call you Rick?”

“Flag’s fine.” The younger Colonel went to leave.

“Okay,” Samson said, moving with him. “That’s fine; surnames are fine. So how was it facing those rogue meta-humans?”

Flag paused, turning to look at the other man. Then he sighed, running a palm over his face. “It went well, overall; we took the targets down. Only, one of my squad got injured.”

Samson frowned, “That’s never easy. Can I ask who?”

“F- Lawton,” Flag replied.

“Ah,” the older Colonel placed a careful hand on the other’s shoulder. “Will he recover?”

Flag eyed the hand before looking away. “He will, but it was touch and go for a while. I better be off.” He stepped out of Samson’s reach. “I guess I’ll see you round, Colonel.”

“I’m sure you will, before too long,” Samson said.

They shared a salut and parted ways.

Rick worked his lower lip as he made his way through the corridor. Something about Samson didn’t sit right with him; how did the man know confidential details about their latest mission? Waller hadn’t made that information available to him yet. Rick clenched his fists, before pushing open a door and exiting the building.

Samson was up to something he shouldn’t be.


	6. Chapter 6

After Floyd was released from the hospital, Waller granted Rick the permission to let the hitman visit his daughter again as his reward.

Floyd had heard about Zoë’s upcoming parents’ evening from her latest letter and told Rick that they should go. All Floyd wanted was for Zoë to be proud to have him as her father, and to know exactly how well his baby girl was doing at school.

Rick swiftly agreed to the idea, telling Floyd he was sure to be the best father at that goddamn evening.

When the two men stopped off at the apartment to pick up Zoë, she ran immediately to hug Floyd upon opening the door. The Lawtons embraced each other tightly and Rick couldn’t help but let a smile slide onto his face.

“Hey, Mr Rick,” Zoë sent the Colonel a cheeky grin once she and her father had parted. She had taken Floyd’s hand in her own. “You coming with us to the school?”

“I sure am,” Rick told her, his smile widening. “And it’s just Rick, we’ve talked about this.”

“Okay, Rick,” Zoë said. She turned to close the door behind her. “Let’s go.”

…

The school building was wholly unimpressive, but the interior was filled with wall displays of colourful paintings and drawings done by the pupils. It was the rainbow heart of a stone prison, Rick thought as they entered. He personally hadn’t had a good school experience.

Rick let the Lawtons approach the desk at the entrance first, allowing them to handle the signing in and all that jazz. Meanwhile, Colonel’s phone vibrated; it was a text from his lieutenant.

“Team in positions, sir,” it read.

Waller had ordered for him to bring small group of his soldiers to tail the trio, so as to keep Lawton under control and provide backup in the case of an emergency. They were currently posted around the area, undercover as citizens so as to not draw suspicion.

“Roger that,” Rick replied.

“Wow,” the lady at the desk, Miss Baxter, grinned up at the Lawtons, handing Floyd a pack of papers. “Well, we’re very happy you could make it, Mr Lawton. Sorry to hear your work’s been so demanding.”

“I’m happy to be here, supporting my girl,” Floyd told her, putting his arm around Zoë’s shoulder to pull her into a hug. “I’m gonna fight harder to make time for stuff like this in the future.”

Miss Baxter laid a hand on his arm, rubbing the skin soothingly with her thumb. “That’s very admirable of you, Mr Lawton. I’m sure you’re daughter’ll appreciate that very much.” She gazed up into his dark eyes.

Floyd eyed her fingers. “Yeah,” he said. “Um.” His eyes flicked over to Zoë.

Rick stepped forward, tired of waiting.

“This is Rick,” Zoë pulled the Colonel between the two Lawtons earnestly. “He’s my dad’s partner.”

Rick inhaled sharply; what did he just get himself into?

“Partner?” Miss Baxter slid her hand up Floyd’s arm. “You’re a cop?” Her eyes never left Floyd.

“No, like married, partner,” Zoë said. “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it?”

Floyd twisted his arm out of Miss Baxter’s reach, using the momentum to lean into Rick and wrap an arm around the man’s waist. “Yeah, Rick’s as much Zoë’s dad as I am; he deserves to be here as much as I do.” Floyd nudged his friend subtly.

“Uh,” Rick gaped. Then quickly shut his mouth. “I’m a bit nervous; never been to one of these things before.”

Miss Baxter had recovered from her shock. “Oh, this is no problem, that’s no problem; no problems here.” She sent them a sheepish smile as her pen dropped to the floor. “Um, I, well, enjoy your evening Mr and, um, Mr Lawton, and Zoë too, of course.”

Zoë grabbed Rick’s hand to drag the two men inside. “What a disaster,” she mumbled once they were out of hearing range.

“Why’d you tell her we were married?” Rick asked, pulling out of Floyd’s hold.

“She was clearly feeling up my dad,” Zoë rolled her eyes. “And looking at him like he was food.”

Floyd shivered. “Thanks for that, honey,” he ruffled Zoë’s hair affectionately. He was not up for that kind of harassment today.

Rick shook his head. “Well, a little head’s up would’ve been nice. Then at least I could’ve said something a bit more intelligent. God.”

The hitman rolled his eyes, pulling Rick in for a side hug, arm over his shoulder. “Let’s just get this show on the road, huh? Then it’ll be time to eat. Isn’t that right, babe?” Floyd winked at the soldier.

Rick just pinched him where his hand had settled on Floyd’s waist. “Don’t go there.”

…

Floyd hadn’t known what to expect from a room full of parents and teachers, as he pretended to be Rick’s not dangerous and definitely not criminal husband. But, he had been expecting something. Not, nothing. No one even blinked strangely at them.

Whenever the trio sat down in front of a new teacher, said teacher always smiled brightly at finally being able to meet Zoë’s parents. They never made any comments about her parents being two men. They really made the guards at Belle Reve seem like pieces of shit.

“Zoë’s an outstanding student,” Mr Wright, her maths teacher, told them. “She’s really progressed since the beginning of the term. Has she received much help from either of you at home?” He leant forward, chin nestled between his hands.

“Dad works a lot and helps when he can. Rick helps more often,” Zoë said, smiling shyly.

Floyd tried to hide his surprise; Rick helped Zoë with school work? Since when?

Rick shot his friend a glance. Then turned back to the teacher. “Yeah, I help when I get the chance. I’m more of History and Biology man though.”

“Good; it’s good for Zoë if there’s someone at home that can help her,” Mr Wright went on. “For reinforcement purposes.”

Rick sent him a brief smile.

“Well, if you haven’t got any questions…?” Mr Wright sat back.

Zoë looked over at the two men, who were in turn gazing at each other. She rolled her eyes. “We don’t have any questions, thanks Mr Wright.”

“My pleasure,” the teacher replied with a smile.

The young girl took the lead and stood up, causing her ‘parents’ to follow suite.

“You help Zoë with her school work?” Floyd pulled Rick into his side as they strolled over to their next appointment.

Rick met his eyes. “I thought that’d be what you wanted; I knew you wouldn’t want Zoë struggling if she didn’t have to.”

“Thanks, man,” Floyd said. “I appreciate it, really. That’s sweet of you.”

Rick grinned. “What can I say? I’m just a sweet guy.”

Floyd rolled his eyes and pushed his friend away gently. “Time to meet the art teacher, I think.”

…

Her dad and Rick were beginning to take this fake-married thing really seriously. If Zoë didn’t know that they weren’t together, she would have thought they were; that’s how good their performance was.

She gaped as her dad pecked Rick on the cheek in front of a group of parents. Zoë was honestly surprised that Rick didn’t faint from the amount of blood that flooded to his cheeks in that moment.

The men got caught in conversation with her friend’s mum after meeting with Mrs Price, her new art teacher. It was a conversation that then grew exponentially into a group gathering of parents wanting to meet the famous Zoë Lawton’s ‘gay dads’, which apparently had fast become a hot topic of gossip. Such was the downside of being liked by the majority of her class.

“So what do you do Rick?” Harry’s mum asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

Her dad had just explained how he was fireman.

“I’m a soldier,” Rick answered.

“Oh, wow,” Harry’s mum smiled. “That’s brave of you.” She nudged Sam’s mum, who was standing next to her, looking equally impressed.

Rick shifted awkwardly.

Zoë would probably have to intervene soon, but she had really wanted to grab a doughnut from the snack table.

“Is Zoë your only child?” Sam’s mum pressed. “You should be proud of her, she’s a great friend to my son; everyone really. Zoë’s such a lovely girl.”

Her dad grinned widely. “She is; our pride and joy.” He slipped his arm around Rick’s waist again; Zoë noted that her dad liked to do that a lot.

Rick leaned into him slightly. “It’s so nice to hear about all of Zoë’s friends. What were your children’s names again?”

“Sam Green,” Sam’s mum replied.

“Harry Tucker,” Harry’s mum added. “And that’s Bailey’s father, she’s Zoë’s best friend; those two are practically inseparable.”

“Awesome,” her dad said, still wearing that stupid grin. “We should go and talk to him, don’t you think, Rick?”

“Yeah,” Rick nodded. “Enjoy the rest of your evening ladies. Nice to meet you,” he sent the mums a final smile before letting her dad steer him away.

Zoë finished her juice, placing her plastic cup back down on the table, then moved to join her ‘parents’ again with her doughnut in hand. “How was that?” She asked, between bites.

The men shared a glance.

“Not bad,” her dad said finally. “I think I handled that question about my ‘occupation’ pretty well, considering.”

Rick sent him what Zoë had dubbed as ‘heart-eyes’.

“Rick, however, just told them the truth, which was boring,” her dad rolled his eyes. “Making this stuff up is part of the fun, man,” he poked Rick in the side.

“You should’ve told them you’re a hitman,” Rick said. “Now, that would’ve been hilarious.”

Zoë slapped him, and crossed her arms.

Rick turned to her, eyebrows raised, “What? It would’ve been.”

“Whatever, dude,” her dad sighed. “Are we done yet, can we leave? My stomach’s calling out for food.”

“We’re finished,” Zoë told them. “So yes, we can go. Let me just chuck the rest of this away.” She ran to dump the remainder of her doughnut in the bin; Zoë didn’t want to be too full, she knew Rick would’ve found them yet another amazing restaurant.

“Come on, love,” her dad had Rick by the waist again and was leading the other man towards the exit.

Zoë couldn’t see, but she knew that Rick would be rolling his eyes at this point.

…

Rick joins in with dinner properly this time around, ordering a dish along with his drink. He tried to ignore the large grin on Floyd’s face as he did so. “What?” He raised an eyebrow at his friend after the waiter had left.

“Nothing,” Floyd shook his head, smile still present. “It’s just cool that you’re taking part, is all.”

Rick found that the smile was contagious.

By the time the food arrived, the three of them were deep into a conversation about how well they thought Zoë’s parents evening had gone.

“You guys were great at acting married,” Zoë slipped in.

Floyd and Rick paused, being temporarily distracted from their argument about which teacher they’d preferred.

“Just saying,” Zoë continued. “I think everyone there was completely convinced.”

Rick cleared his throat, then table fell into a sudden quietness. The men carefully avoided looking at each other.

“It was kinda cool, pretending to have two dads,” Zoë admitted between mouthfuls of soup. “You’ll both come next term, won’t you?” She turned to Rick, who was sat opposite the Lawtons.

He smiled warmly. “Of course. If you still want me to be there, that is.”

“‘Course I will,” Zoë told him, also smiling. “Dad’ll want you there too; I can’t imagine him having to conquer it alone.”

Floyd laughed, “Yeah, it’s much better tag-teamed.”

Rick tried not to think about how there was no way Floyd would’ve been allowed to go alone anyway, not with Waller in charge. But still, he appreciated the sentiment; that they wanted him around.

“You were great this evening, squirt,” Floyd pinched his daughter’s cheek lightly. “All your teacher’s love you; I’m so proud.”

“Aw, dad,” Zoë blushed. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Rick grinned and leaned over to ruffle her hair. “At least I’m not an embarrassing parent, right Zoë?”

“Shut up, both of you,” Zoë slapped their hands away, a smile breaking out onto her face.

The men chuckled.

…

“I’m gonna quickly use the bathroom before we leave,” Floyd stood up, brushing down his trousers. “I love the fancy-ass toilets in these places.”

Rick saw one of his men move out of the corner of his eye; Floyd couldn’t just go to the bathroom alone. “I’ll come with you,” Rick told him, also standing, demonstrating to his soldier that the situation was under control.

“I’ll just wait here; I don’t need it,” Zoë said.

“Okay then, won’t be long,” Floyd told her before the two of them made their way across the restaurant, that had become steadily busier throughout the evening.

The restaurant’s bathroom was spacious, with marble tiling. Rick paused in the doorway. But he didn’t have time to take it all in before he was slammed into the wall.

“Tell me to stop,” Floyd said, thumbs on Rick’s collarbones as he pressed the other man against the tiles.

“What?” Rick could barely think with their bodies so close together.

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop,” Floyd repeated. Then he launched forwards, kissing the Colonel as if his life depended on it.

Rick quickly registered what was happening and opened his mouth to let in Floyd’s tongue. He wrapped his arms around the other’s neck, drawing him in closer. Floyd let his hands wander down to Rick’s hipbones, keeping him pushed up against the wall behind.

They kissed for several hot minutes.

Floyd slowly withdrew, letting his forehead rest against Rick’s as they breathed in each other’s air. “So you don’t mind? I’m guessing you don’t mind…” Floyd panted.

Rick just shook his head, pecking his friend on the lips again. Floyd’s lips were swollen, and that sent a new warmth tingling down Rick’s spine. “I don’t mind, not at all,” he replied.

“Thank God,” Floyd smiled boyishly. “‘Cause otherwise that would’ve been real awkward.”

They stayed there, entangled for a little while longer; as long as they could without it seeming suspicious to the others outside. Neither had ever felt more at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all of the support; I really appreciate it. 
> 
> I do plan on writing another part to this series, which should answer any unresolved questions...


End file.
